Carrots
by Shieruu
Summary: one-shot / marco/ace / "Just shut up, brat." Marco sighed. "It’s a story about a hardworking farmer, his wife and…" "Carrots!" he was interrupted by the second division commander


Being always free with no responsibility aside the one towards your captain and crew, life as a pirate was not always as great as people thought. Free time meant time you either shared with the rest of the crew or alone, which meant boredom.

So it wasn't surprising when a few of the Whitebeard pirates gathered on the deck of the Moby Dick to brigdeover the time their captain was on shore leave with the rest of the crew.

Somebody had to watch the ships and being the good commanders they were it was time for them to play that part. So Marco, Ace, Jôzu, Thatch, Vista and Curiel were currently sitting on the said deck.

"Oi, brat, shut up. I'm going to tell you all a story," the first division commander said, giving the youngest one a slight shove.

"Marco the great story-teller," was all the black-haired muttered before sitting up and looking innocently at his crewmate.

"Just shut up, brat." Marco sighed. "It's a story about a hardworking farmer, his wife and…"

"Carrots!" he was interrupted by the second division commander.

"Ace, could you please don't start making Marcos story worse. They're bad as they are," Jôzu grumbled only to be glared at by the phoenix.

"I like carrots."

"Like everything eatable."

A cough caught their attention. "Anyway…! Let's start with the story." Marco was getting off. All he wanted to was telling a story not discussing their eating habits.

"It all happened a long time ago in a far away country…"

* * *

"Darling," a tanned man called from the hallway of the small farmhouse, he and his so called darling owned, obviously. "I'm home!"

"In the kitchen!" was the only answer he got.

Their everyday evening routine.

More tramping the man made his way into the kitchen only to slump on one of the wooden chairs . The room was small with just some space for the fitted kitchen and a dining table.

A sigh escaped his lips as the exhaustion finally got into his bones and reminded him of the day he just got over with. Life as a farmer wasn't as easy as people thought.

But then again there would be his beautiful wife waiting for him the evening, preparing his dinner. Not an all too bad prospect.

"Dear, carrots or cucumber for the salad?" A man with black hair and freckles asked. Apparently being the said wife, asking its husband what for dinners salad. He wore a pair of black trousers with combat boots, shirt missing. The only strange thing about him was the pink apron he was wearing above all. A loving smile was on his face as he looked over to his lover.

"I would love to have some carrots, Ace."

"Everything you want."

So he went back to prepare supper. Two carrots caught his attention as he wanted to get some for the salad. Laying almost on top of each other one of them was wearing a haramaki, as far as you can say that a carrot is wearing something. Even the color of the leaves was strange since it was more a mossy color than a green. The other one had two big wrinkles that looked almost like eyebrows with a curled end each.

A soft laughed escaped his lips as he watched the two.

"Look Marco. Don't they seem rather strange to you?" He asked, watching over his shoulder how the other man stood up and walked over to him.

"Well. One of them is wearing that stooped green thing… Did you put it on it?"

"No, not really." Ace shrugged and put the two aside. "Somehow, I feel like having cucumber this evening. I don't want two eat them."

"Darling, they're just stupid looking carrots."

"Don't say such mean things. See, you hurt his feelings." Ace held up the moss haired carrot to Marcos face, moving it slightly from one side to the other as if the carrot was alive.

"Stupid pineapple-head!" He spoke with a high childlike voice, trying ahrd not to laugh or even grin.

Marco arched an eyebrow as he heard the others words. He called him pineapple-head?

"I think you're right. No carrots tonight." A smirk appeared on his features as he put the carrots aside to grab Ace and drag him outside of the kitchen…

* * *

"Stop! Just stop already with this crap! I mean… just how sick are you, Marco?" Ace exclaimed as the story was getting way too off course for his liking.

"I thought you liked carrots?" a mocking voice, Marcos, answered.

"I didn't mean them. They were sick enough. I meant the ending!"

"That wasn't the ending. The story goes on. Does anyone want to hear the rest?"

But instead of getting an answer, he was just left alone on the Moby Dick's deck.


End file.
